


For Everything A Reason

by kastleslove (orphan_account)



Series: Oberyn x Sansa Fics [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kastleslove
Summary: Her mother and brother, the last of her family, were dead. Sansa was the last Stark. She had no one in the world. So she could not eat. She could not sleep. She could not cry. There was nothing left to do but waste away in the southern castle where she was always meant to die.And that is what she fully intended to do.





	For Everything A Reason

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one-chapter fic for now but I may add on it at some point if the response is positive. I just got this in my head and couldn't get rid of it. So I hope that at least a few people like it.
> 
> Title inspiration is For Everything A Reason by Carina Round.

Sansa could not eat.

Shae tried to coax her to eat something. She offered honeyed chicken, pigeon pie, and even lemon cakes. Every single bit of it made Sansa’s stomach turn. Even when Shae gave her the slightest bit of bread, she had to choke it down with cup of water and force herself not to expel it. It was as though her body wanted the food even less than she did. When she wasn’t refusing food or taking the familiar walk to the godswood, Sansa was lying in bed praying that Joffrey did not summon her to the Great Hall. She didn’t even have the strength left in her to cry. Sansa wasn’t sure she could summon up the courage to beg for her life. Her mother and brother, the last of her family, were dead. Sansa was the last Stark. She had no one in the world. So she could not eat. She could not sleep. She could not cry. There was nothing left to do but waste away in the southern castle where she was always meant to die.

And that is what she fully intended to do.

* * *

She could not recall how Shae managed to convince her to take a stroll through the gardens. It was impossible not to resent her handmaiden for pressing her to do so and herself as well for agreeing. Her limbs felt heavy and her head spun as she took slow steps down the path. The sun was far too hot, piercing her skin through the fabric of the dress that she wore. Even a light breeze from the sea couldn’t cool her. As a drop of sweat rolled down the side of her neck, she paused in place and braced her hand on a nearby pillar.

“Milady.”

She didn’t respond to Shae, closing her eyes as she tried to breathe past the sharp pains in her stomach. It was only when she found herself leaning more heavily on the stone pillar that she realized just how utterly exhausted she felt. It seemed like far too much effort to remain on her feet.

“Milady,” Shae repeated, sounding more urgent than before.

Before Sansa could respond, another, quite concerned voice reached her ears.

“Lady Sansa?”

Her eyes fluttered open and Sansa turned her head, forcing herself to straighten up.

“Lord Tyrion,” she said, lowering herself into as much of a curtsy as she could manage.

Her legs shook beneath her and her head swam. Yet she managed to keep on her feet, finally lifting her heavy head to meet Tyrion Lannister’s mismatched gaze. He was not alone, much to her chagrin, and his worried look was reflected on the faces of his two companions. Sansa hadn’t interacted with Prince Oberyn Martell much at all besides exchanging courtesies upon their introduction during a banquet a fortnight ago. She hadn’t had the chance to see his infamous paramour at all before now. Her coloring was quite similar to that of her lover and there was a kindness in her eyes that Sansa did not expect. Courtesy dictated that Sansa curtsy a second time to the prince but she felt her strength waning as she swayed lightly on her feet.

“You are rather pale, Lady Sansa. Are you ill?” Tyrion questioned.

She started to shake her head but the motion was far too much for her. He looked to Shae instead, a frown forming on his brow as he did so.

“She isn’t well,” Shae said.

Sansa would have insisted that she was fine if her tongue did not feel as though it was stuck to the roof of her mouth and her lips sealed together by thread.

“You haven’t called on the maester?” Prince Oberyn questioned.

“He would not come even if we did so,” Shae said, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “And even if he did, he would be of no help unless he can convince her to eat.”

“She has not eaten?” Tyrion said, sounding quite alarmed.

“Nothing but a few bites of bread since they told her what happened to her mother and brother.”

Sansa tried to force her lips to open and assure them that they had no need to worry. Annoyance rose in her chest as they continued speaking about her and she almost felt the urge to scream. Yet there was no energy left for her to do so. As she took a shaky step away from the pillar, her feet failed her and she listed to the side. Shae and Tyrion both gasped but it was a strong set of arms that caught her before she hit the ground. Sansa’s cheeks flushed to show the shame that she could not voice but nor could she argue as the Prince of Dorne lifted her into his arms almost effortlessly.

“Is she not a member of the queen’s household?” Oberyn demanded, his voice heated.

She would have flinched away if there was not darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.

“Oberyn,” Ellaria Sand said in warning, her voice low.

“My sister hardly takes notice of her,” Tyrion admitted.

“Then we shall.”

Sansa felt movement as she drifted away and somehow knew that she was being carried away from the gardens as she heard Tyrion’s objections behind them.

“Prince Oberyn, I must-”

“What you must do is not my concern, Lannister.”

Her final thought before she slipped into the sweet embrace of darkness was that the king would be quite angry to hear of anyone showing even a modicum of kindness. But she could not bring herself to warn him before she was pulled into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Sansa first pulled herself from the darkness, her body still felt heavy and her head throbbed with dull pain. There were distant, loud voices and she could barely understand what they were saying as she tried to clear the fog from her mind. She could sense someone sitting on the bed next to her but the effort to peel her eyes open was far too much. As soon as she let out a heavy sigh, a gentle hand cupped the back of her head and lifted it long enough to press a cup to her lips. Sansa let the cool water wet her lips before opening them to drink a little. Then the cup was gone and someone was smoothing her hair back from her face. It was only then that she could make out some of the shouted words.

“I will not force…if the queen wishes...drag her from her sickbed...come and give me the command herself!”

Sansa tensed at the loud words and the person on the bed hushed her quietly.

“Pay him no mind,” a woman’s gentle voice said as she dabbed at Sansa’s forehead with a cool wet cloth. “He can be loud but he’ll give you no reason to fear him.”

Before she could say anything else, the cup was pressed to her lips again and she drank a few sips. Once it was gone again, Sansa’s exhaustion began to take over once more and she drifted back to sleep. The next few times she woke were more of the same until she finally did so with a little more strength than before. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to push past the fog that still lingered in her mind. Once she finally managed to open her eyes, the canopy of her bed came into view. Sansa started at the feeling of someone sitting next to her only for a gentle hand to press lightly to her shoulder.

“You’re all right,” Shae said.

She didn’t stop Sansa from sitting up and held out a cup of water. After a few sips, Sansa lowered the cup and tilted her head back to rest on her headboard.

“Did Oberyn Martell bring me here from the gardens?” she asked.

“Yes,” Shae said, taking the cup from her hands. “And he remained for several hours afterwards. His woman sat right here with you when that Trant man came to bring you to the queen.”

Sansa remembered hearing the shouts. She shuddered as she wondered just how much trouble she caused. If any harm came to the prince or the people who accompanied him to King’s Landing, it would be entirely her fault. Before she could say a word, Shae stood and retrieved something from her dressing table.

“He left a tonic for you,” she said, holding up a small vial.

Sansa’s eyes widened at the sight of it. There was a reason that Oberyn Martell was called the Red Viper of Dorne. Poison may not have been his only means of killing a man but he’d certainly utilized it in the past. Sansa would prove the fool that Cersei thought her to be if she blindly drank anything that he gave her.

“It was apparently made by his own hand,” Shae continued, sitting on the bed once more. “He said that it would settle your stomach so that you may eat something. I watched him drink some to prove that it is safe.”

Before Sansa could refuse to eat, her handmaiden held out a small piece of parchment.

“He left you this as well.”

She unfolded the parchment slowly, her hands shaking slightly as she did so. Sansa read the words quickly, her heart beating quickly in her chest as she did so.

“He asks for the pleasure of my company when I am well,” Sansa said quietly, folding the letter once more.

“The servants talk,” Shae said, turning the vial over in her hands. “He is a dangerous man.”

Sansa bit down on her lower lip but did not say anything.

“But if he wanted to truly harm you, all that he had to do was walk away from you in the gardens,” Shae continued.

She set the vial on the bed next to Sansa before muttering something about going to find someone to deliver heated water for a bath. Sansa didn’t stop her, staring at the tonic with the letter still held tight in her hand. There was no reason to trust Oberyn Martell. Sansa had every reason to never trust anyone again, considering that her previous attempts had been repaid with pain and betrayal. Yet Shae was right. He did not have to bring her back to her chambers or refuse to let Ser Meryn drag her to the queen if he wished her any harm. And somehow Sansa knew that it was his paramour that comforted her when she woke the first time. She stared at the vial, feeling incredibly conflicted. There was no easy answer. Sansa feared, more than anything, that she may choose wrong.

* * *

Hours later, after soaking in a bath and making herself look somewhat presentable, Sansa made her way back to the gardens. The message she sent to Prince Oberyn thanking him for his kindness and dismissing him from all obligation to receive her was answered with an invitation to meet with him that very day. So she had Shae lace her into a gown, pinched her pale cheeks until just enough color rose to the surface, and made her way out on still weak legs. She found him in the gardens surrounded by his household. Striking men and women with dark features, bright clothing, and easy smiles, all laid out upon the grass with wine and foods scattered among them.

Oberyn Martell himself was leaning against a tree with the head of his paramour pillowed in his lap. As soon as he caught sight of Sansa approaching with a wary look, both he and Ellaria Sand moved at once. Sinking into the curtsy that she’d denied him earlier, Sansa prayed that he would not notice the tremble of her fingers before straightening up to hesitantly meet his eye. When he bowed low to her in return, she started with surprise at the way that he gently grasped her hand and kissed it with gentle lips. Then Ellaria moved forward, embracing Sansa as if they were old friends and bestowing a kiss on both of her cheeks.

“I apologize for the trouble I’ve caused, Prince Oberyn,” Sansa said quietly once they’d stepped away from her. “I do not mean to make you feel beholden to me. I am feeling quite well now.”

His eyes narrowed slightly and she felt under scrutiny as he slowly took her in.

“You still have not eaten, Lady Stark?” Oberyn said.

Sansa could not help but wonder what it is that gave her away. She supposed that the dark circles under her eyes, for which there was no cure, and the gauntness of her cheeks were giveaways in themselves. Reaching into the small pocket that was hidden in her dress, she withdrew the uncorked vial and held it out to him.

“I mean no insult, my lord, but I fear that I do not deserve your gift,” Sansa said.

Ellaria looked troubled while Oberyn looked torn between annoyance and pity.

“It is not a gift, Lady Stark. But even if it were, I do not allow gifts to be returned,” he said, reaching out with warm, rough, callused hands to close her fingers over the vial. “You should drink it.”

“I won’t eat,” Sansa said quickly, her irritation flaring. “I can’t.”

His annoyance faded despite her heated words and she found herself looking into eyes that understood.

“I know your grief,” Oberyn said quietly, stepping closer to her than was appropriate.

Yet Sansa did not back away, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“It seems as though it is endless but I promise you that it is not. Now you must ask yourself, is this what your family, your mother, would have wanted?”

Her eyes stung and tears slipped down her cheeks but she did not look away from the prince.

“They’re dead,” Sansa whispered.

Oberyn nodded, reaching up to stroke her hair.

“Do you think that they want you to follow them into the Stranger’s embrace?” he asked.

She shook her head, biting down on her lower lip.

“Remember their names. Do not forget a single thing about them. Write it all down if you must. And one day, perhaps soon or perhaps in many years, you may have the chance to honor them.”

“Honor them how?” Sansa asked, her voice low and hoarse to her ears.

“Starve yourself to death and you may never know,” Oberyn said.

She glanced down at the vial in her hands before looking up. Her eyes moved to Ellaria, who gave her a gentle smile and a firm nod. When Sansa looked at Oberyn once more, he was staring back with a strength in his eyes that she envied. He’d known loss. She knew the stories but always mourned for her father’s dear sister. Never did she think of the family that mourned a princess and her children until now. Never did she think that she’d find common ground with a man like Oberyn Martell. Yet here she was, praying that one day she might possess the strength that was in his heart. But she would have to live first.

So she gently opened the vial and tipped her head back as she swallowed the sweet-tasting tonic. Once it was gone, she met Oberyn’s gaze again and saw approval there. When he held his hand out to her, Sansa barely hesitated before taking it, allowing him to lead her to the midst of his people, sitting her on his right as Ellaria resumed her position on his left. They brought sweetened porridge for her to eat slowly and as she listened to the Dornish people laugh and enjoy one another’s company, Sansa smiled for the first time in what felt like years, wondering if perhaps she could find a family once more and one day honor her own as Oberyn suggested.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


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